On Mistakes
by Keil
Summary: After an argument, Sirius has gotten a bit drunk, and gets himself into a mess with Remus. Slash.


**Author's Note**: Sirius/Remus slash, if'n you don't like, go back a page or three in your browser. 

----- 

"Oh, hell. I didn't mean it like that." Remus stood by the window, watching the tiring sun struggle to push dusk through the cloud cover. He swore the rain had stopped the moment he'd walked through the door. There was a soft patter as his hair dripped water onto his cloak. 

Sirius choked down another swallow of fire whiskey before nearly dropping the glass as he set it down. He placed his palms flat on the tabletop to steady them, staring quietly at the grain pattern of the wood surface. 

Remus turned at the clatter, catching sight of a half empty bottle by Sirius's arm. "How many have you--" 

"You weren't," Sirius said, his voice spilling out as if there were a hundred words more behind such a simple phrase. He spared a glance toward Remus, who stood as a shadow by the window, outlined in the last rays of muddled sunlight. "You-- oh." One of Sirius's hands raised to his mouth, and his eyes widened. He shot out of his chair and stumbled to the hall, kicking over an empty glass bottle on his way. 

Remus took half a step back as the glass rolled across the wooden floor, groaning inwardly as the bottle twisted until he could make out the label. Had that been full earlier? "Oh, dear..." Stepping over the bottle, he walked down the hall to the second door on the left. Sirius sat between the wall and the old, claw-footed bathtub, knees drawn to his chest, arms wrapped around his legs. 

"All right?" the werewolf asked, hovering in the doorway. 

Sirius managed a weak smile that didn't quite meet his eyes. "False alarm." He pinched the bridge of his nose before adding, with a faint slur, "I think I've had enough." 

"Have you?" Remus retorted gently, crossing into the bathroom and settling beside his friend. Dark, red-rimmed eyes met his briefly before Sirius set about staring at his knees. The air was quiet, save for a distant, soft hiss outside the walls. It was raining again. 

"You aren't," came a muffled voice, and Remus started faintly. "Never were." 

Turning his head, nonplussed, Remus asked, "Never -- what?" 

"Second choice." The voice sounded terribly tired, and he could see Sirius's eyes were closed, circles of shadow around them. Remus sighed. 

"Come. Let's get you to bed." Sliding an arm around Sirius, Remus helped his friend stand. They half stumbled down the hall to Sirius's room, and Remus helped him climb onto the bed. 

"Stay?" A murmur in the dim light. There was a heavy silence before the rustling of fabric fluttered across the room as Remus took off his cloak. 

Sirius was already out cold, still in his clothes, laying askew atop the wrinkled sheets, and Remus hadn't the heart to disturb him. He made an attempt to remove Sirius's boots, but the other man lashed out and grunted vaguely when he tried to pull them off. With nasal sigh, he toed off his boots, letting them fall with soft sounds at the foot of the bed. Remus lifted what blankets he could, avoiding a thrashing arm, and crawled beneath them, drawing them up under his chin. As his head hit the pillow, Remus realised his hair was still soaking. He briefly considered a drying spell, but his wand was still in the kitchen and he had little inclination to retrieve it. 

Doing his best to find a comfortable position, Remus curled himself into the free spaces left to him. He lay on his side, knees bent awkwardly to allow for one of Sirius's jutting legs. Briefly, he wondered if Sirius's position was defying all sensible laws of physics, magical or not, and his lips curled upward in a smile. 

The light had dampened to a heavy blue, streaking in through the holes of the worn curtains in delicate swaths. Indigo alighted with startling intimacy over Sirius's unshaven jawline, sharpening over errant strands of hair like small lines of blue flame. It made Remus's breath catch, and he forgot, for a moment, his plans to accost Sirius the moment he awoke, hangover and all, and discover just exactly what the other man had meant earlier. 

With a quiet hand, Remus reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Sirius's face. The other man grumbled softly, but made no other move. Remus withdrew his arm, and tucked it under the blankets. If he'd expected to feel chilled from his wet hair and the soggy front of his collar, he didn't; the duvet was warm, and the heat from Sirius's body was warmer. He exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes. 

"Remus...?" Sirius's voice was ragged, burned from too much whisky and no sleep, like new gravel. 

"Yes, Sirius?" the werewolf replied, his eyes slipping open again. But there was no response, save for the slowed rise and fall of Sirius's chest. Remus's fingers closed tightly around the edges of the blankets, and he suddenly found sleep a very, very good idea. 

* * * 

Twice during the night, Sirius roused himself with a start, racing to the toilet for something that was anything but a false alarm. Each time, Remus followed, holding Sirius's head, keeping his hair smoothed back and waiting until his friend had nearly fallen asleep again, head in his lap. All he could offer was a cool cloth on the back of Sirius's neck; he wished he'd had a potion that could help calm the stomach, but he didn't, nor could he brew any. It had never been his forte. 

After a while, he would urge Sirius to his feet and half carry him back to the bed, eventually getting the other man to let the werewolf pull the covers over him. Remus would carefully tuck the blankets around Sirius's body, only to have the Animagus throw them off again by the time he'd made his way to the other side of the bed and climbed in. Sometimes, Sirius would shiver, and Remus would watch with a creased brow, and reach out to place a hand on his friend's back, or chest, and a moment later, all would be still. 

* * * 

Remus awoke to a groan, and the bed shook before he felt the mattress spring up as a weight was removed from it. He cracked one eye, which just happened to be in the way of a rather bright beam of morning sunlight. He cursed mentally, and squeezed that eye shut again before rolling over. 

He heard a toilet flush, and then a loud bang followed by the clatter of plastic on ceramic. This was appended with a string of obscenities Remus couldn't recall hearing since sixth year in Hogwarts, and he was forced to open his eyes for good. "Oh... dear..." he mumbled to himself, drawing back the covers and sliding his legs over the side of the bed. 

"Sirius?" His voice was cautious, but concerned, and after a moment rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, he planted his feet on the cool floor and set them on a path to the bathroom. He reached the door just as Sirius came struggling out and almost fell over when he nearly walked into Remus. The Animagus cursed again. 

"All right, there, Sirius?" Remus ventured carefully, though he made a sympathetic noise as his eyes fell on a large, darkening lump just below the hairline on the left of Sirius's forehead. "How did you--" 

Sirius's shout interrupted him again. "Bloody cabinet! Who thought to put a swinging mirror above a sink? Who, that's what I'd like to know, so I can hunt him down and hex the --" 

"Sirius!" Remus said forcefully. He very nearly shouted, but this was not quite the circumstance that caused the werewolf to raise his voice. It was, however, enough to get the attention of anyone who knew him well. Sirius stopped mid-sentence, mouth still agape, and met Remus's eyes; his attention momentarily left behind the painful swelling in his head. 

Placing one hand on the door frame, Sirius frowned. "What?" His eyes suddenly widened, and his head turned back toward his bedroom door. The swift movement forced him to bring his hands to either side of his head. "Where did you -- what -- were you --" 

Remus placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "Slow down, Sirius, you'll make your head worse." 

"I will not, I --" Sirius's attention snapped back to Remus. "You!" He stepped back into the bathroom so he would have the room to extend one of his arms, finger pointing, at the werewolf. 

"I what?" Remus said with an indignant snort though his voice remained light, crossing his arms and straightening his back. "I drank a bottle and a half of fire whiskey, raved like a complete lunatic, and passed out last night?" 

"I ... raving?" Sirius's eyes narrowed, his dark irises shifting back and forth suspiciously. He took another step back, but dropped his accusatory hand in favour of cradling his aching skull. "Raving? What ... what was I raving about, exactly...?" His brow became worried and he wrung his hands in front of him, despite the fact he appeared to maintain an air of disbelief. 

Remus rubbed the inside corners of his eyes for a long moment. "All right," he conceded, "not _raving_ per se." Sirius seemed to relax a little at this. "You don't remember anything?" Honey brown eyes flashed upward again. 

A look of severe contemplation washed over Sirius's features, sharpening them. He was quiet for some time, but finally he nodded. It was a faint moment, but Remus didn't miss it. He waited. 

"No, I -- I remember, some things." Sirius's voice sounded choked, and he cleared his throat. "You, in the rain... the dark." His eyes unfocused slightly. "You said --" he looked up, then, and straight at Remus. "About James, and me, and I --" Making a frustrated but resigned motion with his arms, he sank to the edge of the tub, balancing precariously. He massaged his temples lightly and winced. 

Remus took a few steps into the bathroom, one hand tangled thoughtfully in the hair at the base of his neck. "You said I wasn't --" 

"Second choice," Sirius finished for him, his voice grating past his teeth in a whisper. He winced again, this time screwing his eyes shut. "Bloody hell." He felt a hand on his shoulder, and soon another under one of his arms. 

"Come on," Remus said, fingers pulling gently, like his voice. "That's a nasty bump. Let's see what I can do for it." Sirius pushed himself hesitantly to his feet, which were still clad in his tall, black boots. He stumbled, half falling onto Remus, who didn't waver under the sudden burden. Together they clambered over the tile and down the hall to the kitchen. 

Sirius nearly tripped over the overturned bottle from the night before, but managed to fall into the kitchen chair rather than onto the floor. "Bloody --" 

"Hell. Yes," Remus said, his voice muted slightly as he searched the counter for his wand. Behind him, Sirius made an obnoxious grunting sound before cursing again and letting his head fall onto his arms atop the table. He didn't make a sound when Remus returned to his side. "Let me see." 

For a moment, the werewolf thought Sirius had fallen asleep again. He picked at the frayed edged of his shirtsleeves and sighed softly. As he was pulling another chair over, he heard, "It wasn't a bottle and a half." 

Blinking, Remus sat down slowly, the leg of the chair tinking against the glass bottle. He looked from the bottle back to Sirius, one brow arched. "Certainly not." 

"It wasn't. Half empty already." Sirius said thickly, lifting his head to return Remus's gaze. His eyes were narrowed, almost challenging, but Remus could do nothing more than smile at him, neutralising the Animagus's dark expression with the softly crinkling skin at the corners of his eyes. 

"All right. A bottle, then." Remus's grin seemed contagious, despite Sirius's shattered state, and the dark of his expression faded. Sirius laughed, but it only resulted in a flash of pain from the front to the back of his head, causing white stars to burst behind his eyes. 

"Ow." 

Remus reached out, placing gentle fingers under Sirius's jaw and lifted his chin. "Padfoot. Let me see," he repeated. Sirius growled softly, a throaty protest, but didn't move away. Pointing his wand at the rapidly purpling lump on Sirius's forehead and muttered a healing spell. The lump receded, slightly, far from disappearing, and the black-purple colour faded to a green-blue. The werewolf exhaled softly. 

"I wish I were better at those," Remus said, letting his fingers slip from Sirius's chin, feeling the roughness of the stubble beneath his fingertips. 

Sirius shook his head before speaking more clearly than before. "Better. It's better." He couldn't prevent his hands from rubbing at his head once again, but he smiled up at Remus and was no longer squinting so much in the light. "Thanks." Remus nodded and set his wand on the table. 

"Cuppa?" he asked, rising from his chair and walking to the sink. 

"Oh, yes, please yes," Sirius said, sitting up a bit straighter in anticipation of a good cup of tea. Remus chuckled as he grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and set to boiling some water. Sirius groaned. 

"Honestly, Moony, I don't understand why you insist on using that... that Muggle contrap --" 

"Kettle," Remus interjected without turning around. He placed the battered object of Sirius's complaint on the cooker and turned up the heat. 

"Yes, kettle, then," Sirius continued. His expression became rather forlorn, as he wanted the tea _now_. He felt along his belt and pockets but his wand appeared to be missing. Eyes scanned the table, the counters on the other side of the room, the floor. Finally, he shrugged, and reached for Remus's. 

"Put that down, Padfoot," the werewolf warned as he produced some scones from one of the shelves. He wasn't sure if Sirius would feel much like eating, but he figured bringing too much food would be worth avoiding his friend's mock personal injury at not being considered. 

There was a small clack as Sirius dropped the wand. "But Moony, I was just going to help the --" 

"It's better for your head, the old-fashioned way." Remus rummaged for some clotted cream in the old refrigerator, and fetched a butter knife from one of the drawers. 

Sirius pulled a face and crossed his arms. Slouched in silence, he stared at what he told himself was nothing in particular. He felt if he didn't let himself zone out, the hangover might get the better of him. When Remus finally turned round, Sirius jumped and realised he'd been staring at _him_. "Really?" he asked, quite belatedly, just as the kettle began to make a horrendous sound and Remus pulled it off the heat. 

"No," Remus said, rather blandly, after he filled the two mugs with steaming water and carried everything to the table. "I rather like doing things without magic, sometimes." It made things easier, somehow. As a werewolf, he would never quite be a complete part of the magical community, and relying on work outside of it made him think he should immerse himself in the Muggle world as well. It was really rather more comfortable than he'd anticipated, he thought. "I suppose I could get an electric one," he added, sliding a plate with two scones toward Sirius. 

Sirius eyed the food dubiously, but when he saw the clotted cream Sirius had set down between them, he grabbed the knife and began slathering much more than could possibly be healthy over one of the scones. "A what?" 

"Electric ..." Remus said slowly, a slightly horrified expression creeping across his face at the way Sirius was defiling his food. He watched in silence as Sirius finally finished drawing the pastry and shoved the entire thing in his mouth, cream oozing out the corners and dripping a bit onto his chin. "... Kettle." 

"Whhmht?" the Animagus garbled incoherently, but somehow completely innocently, when he saw the look Remus was giving him. 

Remus set down his scone slowly. "That's disgusting, Sirius," he said after a moment. Sirius wiped the cream from his mouth with two finger, and then promptly licked it off. "You're not twelve." The werewolf's eyes were widely aghast, but the corners of his mouth were being tugged by a smile. Sirius devoured the next scone in the same manner, and Remus could do nothing but shake his head. When the Animagus looked over to his plate, Remus pushed it toward him. "I think I've gone off them, for now." He curled his hands around his mug of tea instead, and concentrated on that. 

With a grin, Sirius snatched the plate and subjected the scones to the same treatment as the last pair. "Ffnks, mmht," he said with a full mouth. 

"Honestly, Sirius," Remus half exclaimed as a glob of clotted cream dripped onto the table. "Sometimes I wonder if you're ever going to --" He broke off mid-sentence. "Meh." 

Sirius chewed a few more times and swallowed all at once, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "If I'm what?" he asked, sitting up in his chair. "And did you just say, 'Meh?'" 

"Never mind," Remus said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He brought the mug to his lips and took a slow sip of tea, eyeing Sirius over the rim of the cup. 

"No, Moony, if I'm ever going to what?" Sirius crossed his arms, his eyebrows raised expectantly. Remus exhaled and rubbed his eyes. 

"Nothing, Sirius, honestly. It was coming out all wrong." He watched Sirius scowl at him, and wipe his mouth again, this time on his sleeve. He was fairly sure if the other man wasn't feeling so poorly, he wouldn't be able to get out of this. In fact, he wasn't certain he would be able to even now. He'd never been so careless with words before, why did he seem to be stumbling so easily lately? "Remember where this got us last night?" There. And he'd been ready to leave it until later, when Sirius was able to think past his pounding head. 

Placing his arms on the table, Sirius took hold of his mug. "Well... no. I mean, yes, obviously, but not everything, I think." He took a sip of tea, savouring the hot fluid as it rolled down his throat. Perfect, he thought, momentarily closing his eyes against the ache raging behind them. Remus had always been able to put just the right amount of milk in for his tastes. 

"About what I said," Remus began, tapping his fingers softly against his cup of tea. "And then when I said I didn't mean it that way, I suppose I did, in part." He looked up to see Sirius staring at him with a slightly pinched look of confusion. "That is to say," he amended, trying to clarify, "I said you only wanted to live here because James and Lily were going to have a baby. I really don't think that, Sirius. It's just that --" His brain clawed for more words, but failed to unearth any. It was like drowning, and realising there was something nearby you could pull yourself out with, but not knowing precisely what it was, a rope, or a branch, and not knowing exactly _where_ it was, either. 

"Remus, you and James are my best mates," Sirius said after a moment. He put his mug on the table, letting it warm his hands as he stared at the steam curling into the air. "James asked me, you know, not long after he moved in with Lily, probably without mentioning anything to her of course, judging from her reaction, and I really wanted --" 

"It's okay, Sirius," Remus said, feeling he needed to step in before Sirius forgot to breathe. The werewolf crossed his arms in front of him, staring down at the light amber liquid. "I know, I mean, after all those years... You and he were always the ones getting into trouble together and --" He rubbed his palms over his face; Sirius waited patiently. "I don't know." But he did. 

"Moony?" Sirius's voice was softer than Remus ever though he'd heard, and the werewolf looked up, brown eyes meeting pale. "I said you were never second choice." 

Remus sighed, pulling at the strands of worn fabric on his sleeves a few times before folding his hands together. "Well. Yes, I suppose I never asked. So, I am sorry, for what I said. I didn't expect you'd take it so hard." 

"I think," Sirius said, very slowly, as he linked his fingers behind his neck, cradling the throbbing base of his skull, "that I knew I would be safe, if I just -- if I just threw everything ... at James." His gaze fell back to the table before his eyes slid shut again and he grimaced. 

"Safe? Padfoot, maybe you should lie down. We can talk about things -- this -- later," Remus suggested, ready to get up from his chair and help Sirius, should he need it. But the Animagus simply shook his head, exhaling heavily before looking up again. 

"I'm all right. Honestly," Sirius insisted, strands of black hair falling to frame his paler than usual face. He let his hands slide down in front of him, pushing the empty plate toward the centre of the table and brushing errant crumbs away with long fingers. Remus watched quietly. "Besides, I might as well tell you, because it seems I've lived half my life doing whatever I could _not_ to. And I'm tired, Moony." 

Remus's brow raised slightly, and he spun his mug in place absently. "Really, Padfoot, you should lie down, if you're not feeling well. It'll only get worse." 

"Now, that is not what I meant, Moony," Sirius replied with an arched eyebrow. There was silence, for a moment, and a sigh soft enough only Remus could hear it. 

"I know." 

Sirius leaned back in his chair, looking at Remus intently, or at least as much as his headache would allow. The clouds had returned, giving the window behind the werewolf a strange silver-grey glow. The light burnished Remus's hair an odd sterling colour that Sirius couldn't quite pull his eyes from. "It was the first thing I can ever recall that made me afraid. Aside from, possibly, my insane bint of a mother, but that wasn't quite the same thing." He proffered a small smile, pale eyes reflecting the passing clouds outside. 

This intrigued Remus. In all his years he had really never known Sirius to be afraid of anything: not creatures, or people, or consequences. He had been that way ever since Remus first met him, when they were eleven, and it was something to which he had rather aspired. "Padfoot, what could you _possibly_ be afraid of?" the werewolf asked, unable to repress a chuckle. 

The room was quiet, and Remus almost cleared his throat to break the stillness. 

"You, Remus," Sirius stated softly, his hands falling still on the surface of the table, where they had been tracing small patterns over the grain. Remus blinked. "Or rather, the way I felt the first time I met you, and the way it never went away, like I expected it would, only changed into something much more difficult to ignore, the feeling of helplessness you get when ... Remus, I was scared to death, and all I could think to do was busy myself with someone who appeared completely oblivious --" 

"He wasn't blind, Sirius," the werewolf interjected carefully, attempting to steer his friend away from another disastrous run-on monologue. "I mean, he said, you know... he didn't know what to think after a while. It's why I thought, well, you two --" He broke off, twisting his hands together, frustrated at his inability to form a coherent sentence. 

Sirius sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging as he brought one hand up to rub at his forehead. "I didn't really think he was. At least, not completely." He met Remus's eyes, which were warm, if a bit wary, and suddenly his stomach seemed to twist in place. "Damn," he muttered, drawing a quirked expression from the werewolf. 

Finally, Sirius straightened his back, squaring his shoulders and ignoring the pain that traced its way down his spine. "I can't do this, anymore, Remus," he said quickly, but with a voice subdued, forced out of himself unwillingly, but necessarily. 

"What...?" Remus managed to sputter, his body going rigid. 

"I have to tell you, and that'll ruin everything, you know, everything I have here, our friendship --" Sirius's voice barrelled on like a train, threatening to run Remus over at any moment. If only he could just step out of the way. Sirius looked, and sounded, to him for a moment as if he were fifteen; Remus felt like he were fifteen again himself. "-- and it's the last thing I want to do, but, you have to know, and I have to say, because it's been killing me for more years than I care to count, and I think I've known this since that first day on the Hogwarts Express, you know, it was raining, all the water coming down and melting the glass, you with your tattered robes and soggy brown hair, and brilliant brown eyes, just like last night, and, oh bollocks! I love you, Remus J Lupin, and I know that's just going to ruin everything, so I'll just go and --" 

"Sirius, you great horse's arse." The words were said gently, but had the desired effect. The Animagus clamped his mouth shut with a slightly indignant expression that turned more to forlorn resignation as Remus stood from his chair. The wooden legs scraped softly over the floor as they slid backward. 

This was it, thought Sirius. After all these years, he'd finally told Remus how he felt, and the other man was walking away. What was worse, Remus thought him a complete pillock for even considering those feelings. Hair falling along the sides of his face, curving from behind his ears over his jaw, Sirius crossed his arms on the table and let his head fall forward. What had he done? He groaned. 

Just as Sirius's forehead was about to impact his arms, he felt fingers under his chin, sliding over his skin until his jaw was cupped by a weathered palm. The hand pulled gently, but determinedly, and Sirius allowed his chin to be lifted until he was looking into Remus's face. His grey-blue eyes were blank with incomprehension. 

"Sirius, I do believe you babble more incoherently when sober than when you are rather severely inebriated." Remus smiled, inches away from the other man's face. Slender fingers slowly brushed away long strands of black hair. For a moment, all Sirius could do was blink. 

"You mean you didn't --mmmf!" Sirius was effectively silenced when Remus leaned in and pressed a firm, but gentle kiss against the other man's lips. Remus smelled of cinnamon and of the lemon he put in his tea, of rain and trees and the damp of the earth they ran through on all fours every month. He tasted even better. So Sirius's eyes slipped closed, and he raised his hands to run through Remus's soft, brown hair, and he forgot for a moment that he'd just had one of the worst nights he'd had since they'd graduated from Hogwarts. 

That is, Sirius was able to forget until his stomach churned violently. He pulled back, to Remus's surprise, and dropped his hands to clutch at his stomach. "I -- oh -- really don't feel ..." And in an instant replay of the previous evening, Sirius flew out of his chair and down the hall, leaving an only slightly stunned werewolf staring after him. 

Sirius was half-collapsed against the toilet when Remus stepped into the doorway. 

"You know, I half think you deserve it for the atrocities I saw you commit against those innocent scones." A throaty groan met Remus's ears. 

"Moooonyyy." Another groan, more subdued this time, and Sirius pulled away to lean against the wall, grateful for the coolness of the tile and the panelling through his clothes. Remus ran a flannel under the tap, and handed it to the man on the floor. "I shouldn't have eaten anything. Why'd you give me food, Moony, with my stomach like this?" 

Remus rubbed the skin on the bridge of his nose none too gently. After a brief internal deliberation, he decided to ignore Sirius's attempt at blame. "Come on, Padfoot. Neither of us got much sleep last night, and you need some rest more than anyone." Sirius mumbled something unintelligible, but didn't protest when Remus, for the umpteenth time in the last day, helped him off the floor. 

Once again, back down the hall they walked, and this time, Sirius let Remus remove his boots before slipping under the covers. As he turned onto his side, Sirius thought of asking his friend to stay, but Remus had already climbed into the same spot as the night before, and was looking patiently at him with round, brown eyes. One arm lay stretched to the side, and Sirius wasted no time sliding until his head rested on Remus's chest, and he felt an arm close around his tired shoulders. 

"'Night, Moony," Sirius said against Remus's chest, even though daylight still streamed in through the ineffective curtains, making Sirius's hair look like soft raven's feathers. 

When Remus replied, it was a whisper. "Goodnight, Sirius. I love you, too." But Sirius was already fast asleep, his breath warming the cloth over the werewolf's stomach, and it was not long after those words Remus crashed into oblivion after him. 


End file.
